


Interlude

by spnredemption



Series: Redemption Road [25]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnredemption/pseuds/spnredemption
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Buying Castiel new clothes apparently involves making out in the men's fitting room for half an hour.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> Masterpost: **[Supernatural: Redemption Road](http://spn-redemption.livejournal.com/1552.html)** (for full series info, warnings, and disclaimer)  
>  **Author:** [](http://nyoka.livejournal.com/profile)[**nyoka**](http://nyoka.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Characters:** Dean/Castiel  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Word Count:** ~3,300  
>  **Warnings:** language; sexuality; domestic schmoop; pwp  
>  **Beta:** [](http://zatnikatel.livejournal.com/profile)[**zatnikatel**](http://zatnikatel.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Note:** : Part of our collection of **[DVD extras](http://spn-redemption.livejournal.com/tag/fic%3A%20dvd%20extras)** — outtakes, deleted scenes, missing scenes, and episode tags/codas that take place before, during, or following an aired episode. This coda follows Episode 16: Mad World.

_Houma, Louisiana_

The Wal-Mart's one of those 'super' ones that take up an entire city block, the giant-ass grocery department nestled next to the home improvement section. Dean watches Castiel ease their overloaded cart through the aisles, carefully avoiding rampaging children and their harassed-looking mothers. The noise of the Saturday morning crowd is enough to set Dean's jaw clenching.

"Cas, are we done yet?" he huffs, tossing three rolls of duck tape into the basket as Castiel examines the sale prices on camping lanterns.

"We didn't pick up the package of tempeh and the bushel of Swiss chard Sam needed to make dinner tonight," Castiel says absently, squinting down at another price tag before turning his smiling, knowing eyes on Dean. "I think you purposely forgot, actually."

"How did I raise a friggin' hippie? Tell me that, Cas," Dean growls with a dramatic eye-roll as he leans against the shopping basket, frowning down at the mix of food and household goods steadily growing in size. He wonders if the five boxes of Froot Loops are a little excessive, but then again, nah. Especially considering they've become his and Castiel's go-to food for the post-sex munchies.

Speaking of. Castiel is suddenly pressing against Dean's side, and his breath is warm as it brushes against Dean's neck. Dean flushes hot and tries not to shiver at the feel of Castiel's body so close to his in public. He wants to complain about the lack of personal space, mention that there are children running around, but mostly he's too distracted by the thin stretch of t-shirt pulling over Castiel's chest.

Castiel is watching him with an amused smile. "I think Sam's worried about your sodium intake," the angel says, voice low and whispered. "And I quite liked the kale and black bean vegetarian stir-fry he made for us last week."

Dean's silent for a full minute, then, "That's it. No sex for you tonight."

Castiel pulls back and shoots Dean the evil eye before going back to checking items off his shopping list, adding under his breath, "For some reason I don't believe you."

Dean snorts at that, smiles, and relaxes back against the shelf as he watches Castiel putter up and down the sporting goods aisle. For a millennia-old angel, Cas has taken surprisingly well to the domestic life. He bakes, does his own laundry (well his and Dean's dirty sheets after marathon make-out sessions), and works a shopping list like he's on a mission from God.

It's weird to see him this way: like he's just your run-of-the-mill normal nerdy dude with a constant serious expression on his face, a mess of tangled dark hair, a pair of Dean's worn jeans, and that bright blue "Fuck you, I'm an angel!" t-shirt Dean brought for him as a gag gift at some thrift-shop in Madison, Wisconsin last month.

"Given the lack of sales items this week, I don't think we'll stay on budget," Castiel says, the rough pitch of his voice shaking Dean out of his near-doze against the fold-up lawn chairs.

Dean leans forward, cranks his neck, and eyes Cas steadily. "Yeah, Sam and I need to hustle some tonight. Our cash reserves are running low."

Castiel arches a brow. Smiles a little when he says, "Should I come along as well? To provide assistance?"

"Cas, if you play pool again, we might not survive the night," Dean says on a soft laugh, remembering the last time he'd taken Castiel into a bar. "Plus, you're a distraction for me. I spend too much time thinking about how good you'd look spread out on top of the pool table and not enough time focusing on my shot."

Castiel tilts his head, and his smile is exasperated as he says, lowly, "Is sex really all you think about?"

Dean rolls his eyes and steps closer to him. "Would that be so bad?" he whispers, watching as Cas closes the space between them. "Anyway, I blame you, man."

"Don't blame me for your lack of discipline," Castiel says, but he's just a breath away now, his hands coming up to rest on Dean's shoulder as he draws nearer, eyes boring into Dean like he can see all the dirty things Dean wants to do to him right now.

"I was perfectly disciplined until you started walking around in my clothes," Dean says, licking his lips and watching Castiel's soft blue eyes track across his mouth.

"You insist I wear them instead of getting more of my own," Castiel whispers, pressing closer until their chests meet. Dean knows winding each other up like this is a bad idea. They're in the middle of a crowded Wal-Mart in the Deep South, for Christ's sake.

But.

But he's already remembering this morning, waking up to the warm sunlight tracking across Castiel's naked skin. Lazy, deep kisses and seeking hands and rolling hips; getting each other off three times before breakfast. The taste of maple syrup on Castiel's lips when they hid out and kissed in the Waffle House's bathroom. The way time just stops whenever they're touching.

Like now. Like this.

Castiel slides his hands under Dean's shirt, pulling close as if to whisper in Dean's ear, but instead nuzzling his earlobe. "So undisciplined," he murmurs, his words scorching and loaded, and Dean really wants to press him up against the row of sleeping bags and kiss him breathless, show him just how undisciplined he can be.

"Fuck," Dean gasps, heat skimming through his body as Castiel's long fingers dig harder into the muscles of his back. "Cas, man, we're in a Wal-Mart," he barely manages to garble out when Castiel's hands begin to wind down to his hipbone, nails scratching against Dean's skin in a way that sends all his blood rushing south.

Castiel nips at Dean's neck one last time before finally pulling away. "My apologies," the angel says, and he looks _almost_ like he means it. His turns away with a soft smile, but his eyes widen as he glances down the aisle. Dean turns in time to see two teenage girls watching them from the mouth of the aisle, giggling and whispering to each other.

Dean clears his throat pointedly and steps farther away from Castiel, rubbing the back of his neck and hoping the heated flush rushing through his body isn't too visible on his face. Castiel steps back in front of the handles of the shopping cart as if nothing just happened and picks up his supply list again. "We still need double A batteries," he comments, nonchalant.

Dean grunts and starts following Castiel as he pushes the basket onto the next aisle. "I'm the one who lacks discipline?" he mutters after a moment, as they head toward the pharmacy department to pick up another twelve-bottle pack of ibuprofen.

Castiel slows down the basket, glances back at him, and tosses an arched eyebrow at Dean as if to say _Yes. Yes you are_.

Dean grumbles and picks up a box of Little Debbie Swiss Cake rolls for the ride back to the motel. _Friggin' angels wearing his friggin' clothes_.

Buying Castiel new clothes apparently involves making out in the men's fitting room for half an hour.

"Let me, Cas, let me," Dean says, breathless, peeling off the clearance-rack button-down shirt Castiel had tried on two minutes earlier.

"You don't like that one either?" Castiel says, voice gone rough, as he pushes between the vee of Dean's spread legs. Dean's fingers trail up Castiel's bare thighs before settling at his waist. Dean eyes the rounded bulge in Castiel's boxer briefs, the line of dark hair trailing under his belly button.

The air is burning hot in Dean's lungs, and there's a fire spiraling out of control in his belly. He licks his lips, looks up and meets Castiel's dark eyes. "No?"

"At this rate, we'll never find something suitable for me to wear," Castiel says, voice a heated growl, but Dean only grunts his response and skims his hands across Castiel's bare belly. Castiel shivers beneath his touch, and Dean pulls him even closer.

"Maybe I want you like this," he whispers, tightening his grip around Castiel's hips and pressing his face against his groin. Castiel bucks, breath hitching, his long fingers coming up to tangle in Dean's hair as he presses his body forward.

"Then have me like this," Castiel whispers, voice thick and deep enough to sink down beneath Dean's skin, setting his body trembling and aching for more.

Dean leans in, pushing against the cradle of Castiel's pelvis, pressing against his strong thighs and hard cock. He used to think Castiel was untouchable, unmovable. But when they're like this, Castiel is something Dean can wrap his mind around. The storm beneath Castiel's skin feels like Dean's own damage, a hot roll of emotion that spills out when the angel lets go, lets Dean _really_ see him. Dean nuzzles at Castiel's groin, his mouth opening and pressing over Castiel's erection, suckling at Castiel's cock through the cotton of his briefs as the sound of their breathing goes ragged in the small confines of the fitting room.

"Dean," Castiel whimpers.

Around him, Dean can feel the soft tremble of Castiel's body as he struggles to stay upright. Dean moves fast then, slipping his fingers under the elastic band of Castiel's briefs, pushing the cloth down to his knees, watching Castiel twist and move until his dick springs free, bouncing long and wet and beautiful, and _holy hell_ , Dean wants to taste him so damn bad. Castiel settles between Dean's wide-spread thighs, and soon Dean's face to face with that wet, flushed cock.

When Castiel pushes closer, his length slides against Dean's mouth, nudging gently, seeking entrance. Dean teases at the head with his lips, and then he smoothes his hand over the curve of Castiel's ass, grabbing both cheeks firmly between his palms, massaging into the thick muscle and silken skin as he rocks Castiel forward. When Dean's fingers skim close to the cleft of Castiel's ass, Castiel thrusts sharply, letting out a low moan.

"Shhh," Dean breathes out, puffing a warm breath against Castiel's cockhead, laughing softly.

Castiel curls his fingers behind Dean's head and leans down while Dean reaches up. Their lips touch, just barely, unshaven chins rubbing together in a gritty rasp. Castiel's lips are soft and dry, gentle, as they press against Dean's own. Dean takes Castiel's bottom lip into his mouth, lets his tongue trace the curve of it, while bringing his hands to rest just above the sharp jut of Castiel's hipbones.

Castiel arches forward as Dean moves further down, his lips running over the angel's muscled torso, shaping the tense, solid mold of his body. In the months since they started doing this, Dean has memorized every inch of Castiel's reconstructed human body, learned every blemish and freckle, every scar the body had retained despite Castiel's numerous resurrections. Dean finds them all now; he moves across Castiel's body like he would a road map, finding each ridge and depression, mouth sliding down the valleys of Castiel's pelvis, lips outlining a path over the smooth expanse of the angel's belly. Dean stops and presses against the soft flesh between thigh and cock, spends long moments lapping at the salty-sweetness of Castiel's inner thigh, the tip of his tongue tracing the line of warm skin.

A thrill races down Dean's spine the longer they do this, knowing how fucked this is, how anyone could hear them. But Cas is long, lean, and hard above him, and Dean wants to touch him everywhere; touch him as long as he can. Because he needs this, needs Cas so damn much it scares the crap out of him. He buries his face in Castiel's groin again, his lips brushing against the angel's dark hair as Castiel's cock bumps his chin, before it comes to rest against Dean's parting lips. Dean's own cock is hard in his jeans, and he wants suddenly so badly to be naked and sliding up against Castiel's body, cock to cock, rutting on the floor of the fitting room.

But first things first. There's a fat drop of precome on the head of Castiel's cock, and Dean flicks his tongue out, licks at the slit before kissing the crown chastely. His mouth fills with the bittersweet taste of Castiel, and he moves his lips further along the length of the angel's shaft, pressing a hand between Castiel's thighs to spread them wider, so that he can mouth at the velvet-smooth skin of his friend's balls.

Castiel drags in a shuddering breath and scratches his nails through Dean's hair as Dean circles the base of his cock with his lips. Dean presses soft kisses along the base, breathing in deep, taking in Castiel's salty scent while his cock bobs eager and wet against Dean's cheek. Dean mouths up along Castiel's swollen shaft, in long, wet, slow motions, before swallowing Castiel down, tongue swirling around his length as he pulls the angel inside of him.

Dean loves sucking Castiel off, taking him in deep, feeling stuffed full of him, his mouth left aching and raw as it's forced open around Castiel's smooth, hard flesh. Dean looks up and sees Castiel's blown pupils and the flutter of long lashes as he rocks forward, his white teeth biting hard into his bottom lip to quiet those choked-off, keening noises he always makes.

Dean's hands slide over Castiel's hips, fingers gripping his thighs tighter as he sucks him deeper. For several moments, Castiel's long, stiff cock plunges in and out Dean's mouth in a slow, hot rhythm. Castiel's hands press against the back of Dean's head, keeping him right where Cas needs him to be. Dean whimpers, sucking even harder, swallowing down the spurts of precome that spill onto his tongue, working his mouth wider to take more of Cas inside with every slow roll of his hips.

"Dean," Castiel growls as Dean takes him even further still, until Cas is bumping at the back of his throat. Gag-reflex forgotten, Dean's mouth widens with every push of Castiel's thick cock, his cheeks hollowing out as Castiel starts to fuck his face with reckless abandon. For a time, it feels like the world stops. Dean's chest constricts so tight he can't breathe, can't think, and all he knows is the feel of Castiel moving inside of him, his taste and heat and scent filling him up.

Then the world speeds up, and Castiel is gently pulling his cock out of Dean's bruised mouth, fingers gripping tightly into the back of Dean's head, tilting his face up. He looks down at Dean, eyes a dark, liquid fire as his hand begins to strip his swollen cock, pumping furiously.

"Dean," Castiel breathes out again, voice blistered and raw, his cock suddenly jerking forward as he shoots slick heat across Dean's lips and cheeks. Dean's eyelids flutter closed, and he thinks he should be ashamed of the starved, naked, needy noises that spill out of his mouth.

"Jesus, Cas, keep it coming," he gasps instead, reveling in the feel of his friend's warm come splattering across his lips, sliding down his neck. It's so fucking hot Dean can't control himself; he spills into his own jeans, biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, trying not to moan as his body quakes with his own fevered release.

Dean doesn't even have time to take a breath before Castiel is pushing down into Dean's lap, pressing his warm, naked body against Dean's still-clothed one, and grabbing Dean's face between his palms as he draws their faces together. Castiel's long tongue slides across Dean's face, seeking out the drops of his own come smeared all over Dean's cheeks, nose, and chin, licking and sucking relentlessly before finding Dean's willing mouth.

Dean feels woozy, on the verge of losing consciousness, his body so full of electric need he wonders if he might come again. Castiel kisses him into stillness, tongue slipping over Dean's lips, sliding inside his mouth, moving fast and thorough and deep, and so full of command that Dean's breath catches in his chest. Dean can't do anything but follow Castiel's lead, lapping into the searing heat of Castiel's mouth, sucking on his tongue until he finally has to pull back and breathe.

Castiel stares at Dean for a long moment, and Dean thinks maybe he never wants to stop looking right back at Cas, seeing him like this, so open and fucked-out, so completely undone by him.

"Dean," Castiel says after a moment's pause, breaking the heavy silence. A smile slowly curls his lips. "I think," he continues, running his hands over the stained collar of Dean's shirt, "we need to find you new clothing as well."

"This is all your fault," Dean mutters, pulling Cas closer, rubbing their hips together as the angel settles further in his lap.

"We'll just have to teach you more discipline," Castiel says quietly, hand pressing against Dean's collarbone.

Dean huffs out a soft laugh before Castiel takes his mouth again, one hand moving between them to push down into Dean's jeans, fingers sliding around Dean's still-sensitive cock. Dean sucks in a sharp breath as Cas starts stroking him back to hardness, kissing wet sounds into his mouth.

"Goddammit, Cas," he says, because the noises they're both making deep in their throats definitely sound as if they're going at it like horny teenagers, and he knows any minute now someone's going to knock. Castiel's hand slows down, but it stays where it is, a protective presence between Dean's legs, palming his balls softly and slowly.

Dean breathes in deeply. "Can't take you anywhere," he murmurs, smiling when Castiel pushes his face against his neck, lands a soft kiss on his throat. The angel pulls back, but one hand is still smoothing over Dean's balls, nudging his soft cock, while the other cradles his face.

Castiel stares at Dean for a long time, and Dean wants to look away, but his friend's raw, naked intensity is something he's always been drawn to. There's so much he wants to say during these moments, but he...he can't. Even if he could...this connection between them is not anything he can give a name to.

Holding eye contact, Castiel shifts and pulls his hand free, his motions rocking their bodies together gently. His arms wrap around Dean's chest, and Dean pulls him closer.

"How long do we think we have before they break the door down?" Castiel asks softly.

"Another hour at most," Dean murmurs, and Castiel responds by bending his head and gently mouthing at the juncture of Dean's throat, sucking a mark there that Dean knows he'll have to explain away later. Not that Sam or Bobby ever believes the stories they make up.

The fitting room is tiny, and Dean can hear the bustle of the boisterous Saturday crowd winding in through from the main entrance, but he isn't bothered by it. He breathes in the musky air of the room, and then he kisses Castiel until they're both dizzy from it.

For a moment, all they need is this. Dean presses his head against Castiel's shoulder and closes his eyes. Lets himself go.


End file.
